Some people got: more kicks than halfpence
And cry for attention
Like cracks in the pavement
And all of this pointed
Like perfect TV
When you're sowing the wind
You reap the whirlwind

Who gets the mansions
We get the ruins
Same old story

Your flexible nature
Serving no purpose
Like a terrible artist
Using no shadow
And the king of the castle
Is pulling new shapes
Gilding the lilies
And all of them fakes

Typical tragic
Small house and small street
Narrow the outlook
Small minded complete
The emperor's new clothes
Get clearer and clearer
Dictate to the fingers
That tighten the trigger

And the king of the castle
Is pulling new shapes
Life is a poison
It begins at home
Pride is a trinket
A security blanket
You could tangle the spiders
On the webs that we weave

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